


slow the dawn

by storiesfortravellers



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, M/M, Multi, Peggy's POV, Quiet Moment, Sleeping Together, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-24
Updated: 2016-04-24
Packaged: 2018-06-04 03:57:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6640450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesfortravellers/pseuds/storiesfortravellers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peggy likes to watch Steve and Bucky sleep.</p><p>Peggy/Bucky/Steve established relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	slow the dawn

Peggy stared out the window, holding her robe tightly around her in the night air. Moonlight shone in, wafts of midnight gleam spreading through the quietness of their room, softly, like fingers slowly splaying in a candlelit bath.

She looked over at her boys. Their instincts took over in their sleep, silencing the good-natured insults they liked to fling at each other during the day. Steve was curled up next to Bucky, his head resting on Bucky's chest, with Bucky's arm wrapped around his shoulders, his fingers gently resting on Steve's head. She knew that he would stroke Steve's hair whenever Steve made a noise, made some whimper in a dream, without either of the men waking. 

Peggy knew what Steve's nightmares were about, and few things gave her more comfort than to see Bucky's hands protecting Steve from his own mind, quelling the anger, the hard pit of pain, before it grew fearsome enough to shake Steve from his slumber. They didn't know what Bucky's nightmares were, not really, but Bucky, like her, was better at hiding them.

She wished, sometimes, that she could keep them here. In the darkness, in the moonlit hush of a thin bed and rough blankets and warm, close bodies, all tangled up. The sound of their breathing, strong and steady, mingling with the chirp of crickets in the distance, the wind tunneling through the drying leaves.

But in the morning, it would be all noise and bustle. The sun would rise, news would come, and she would use the intel to plan a new mission. They belonged to the war, all three of them, and that was as it should be. 

But these few, rare moments - these arcs of moonlight bending across muscle and flesh, like white-gray ink drawn across their embrace -- these belonged to her.

**Author's Note:**

> For comment-fic for the prompt: _midnight make fast with the sun._ \- "Serenade," by Emilia Torrini


End file.
